


but it's the same sky

by moonlitwriting



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Gen, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-17 10:23:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28847499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonlitwriting/pseuds/moonlitwriting
Summary: even with the distance, akaashi knows how to listen and what the right words are for when you find yourself a little lost.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Reader
Kudos: 28





	but it's the same sky

**Author's Note:**

> cross-posted from my blog, by-moonflower.tumblr.com!

“ _akaashi_?”

when he hears your shaky voice and not the chirpy greeting he was expecting, akaashi’s heart hit the brakes, halting any trace of its racing when he first saw your caller id light up his phone. in fact, he feels something too heavy drop to the pit of his stomach as he presses the phone harder against his ear, detecting a small sniffle on your end.

you’re crying.

the people around him begin to shuffle in their places and he looks up to see his usual bus home approaching. but he steps away from the bus stop, slowly trudges back to the middle of the sidewalk.

“hey,” he begins, gently clearing his throat. “are you okay?”

akaashi knows the silence on your end is your attempt to physically hold back the sobs. he’s familiar with your old habit of speaking incomprehensibly through your cries, always rushing your words like you feared no one would listen if you didn’t speak them fast enough. it always leaves you breathless, leaves you feeling like you needed to explain yourself.

he recalls clearly the night you first broke down in front of him like that, something you didn’t mean to do, you kept saying. crying to you was such a shameful thing that akaashi could never forget the way you shrugged him off and buried your face in your hands because you didn’t want to be seen _like that_. all he did then, even when you didn’t ask, was stay.

since then, you’ve been more open to his comfort, willingly sharing with him the parts of yourself well-acquainted with hurt, just as enthusiastically as you shared with him the parts of yourself that fill his days with unearthing joy. though he knows you still try to bite back sobs and keep face in front of him, you at least let loose enough to sink into his embrace, let his warm hands rub up and down your spine and let him kiss the top of your head.

but with you a thousand miles away, akaashi feels the distance stretch even further, like a darkening abyss was in the way and not just an ocean. he can’t be there to rub your back, he can’t press reassuring kisses into you when words don’t work. the most he can do, like the first time then, is stay.

he picks up your strained breathing and akaashi tries to avert his mind from imagining the worst. “take your time, okay? just breathe,” he finally says. he doesn’t realize he’s been fidgeting his fingernail against his thumb so much that the skin is peeling again.

“i-i’m s-sorry…” you don’t finish your sentence but akaashi is already shaking his head. he doesn’t want you to apologise, ever. not for crying, not for what you’re feeling, and most especially, not for calling him. he knows that last reason would eat you up alive inside, but you’re learning not to be so harsh with yourself.

it takes a little more than fifteen minutes for you to be able to speak a proper sentence. within that time, there were a few instances of your “alright, i’m okay” followed by another few moments of prolonged silence. akaashi wants to tell you that you don’t have to pretend to be strong in front of him. he wants to remind you that you’re allowed to cry for as long as you want and that you didn’t owe him an explanation for it.

in the time that it takes for your weeping to subside, akaashi let his feet take him wherever. it didn’t matter that he wasn’t on the way home, as long as he didn’t lose signal. when his phone alerted him that he was on low battery, he swiftly pulled out his portable charger to make sure his phone wouldn’t die on him.

you inhale sharply, taking the deep breaths he’s shown you how to do, the ones that directed oxygen all the way to the bottom of your lungs. he feels his chest constrict then expand with you, it makes him feel closer to you.

“rough day?” he asks.

following a long pause, “something like that, i guess.” akaashi sees the light turn green and he crosses the road. “or, mmm. a rough _week_? a couple weeks…”

“weeks?”

“maybe the past few months?” a beat, or two. perhaps longer. “you know how… how sometimes things just get bad? and the first time, like… you sweep it under the rug and everything’s, well… everything’s fine?”

akaashi sees a park in the distance and decides it would be better if he found a bench to sit on. the evening rests cool and he’s worried the city traffic would distract him from you as it approaches the peak of rush hour.

“then you think you’re okay for a while… until, um, until you’re not? and you sweep it under again… and again, and…”

he pulls out his earphones neatly entwined in his pocket, carefully plugging it into his phone with a speed that wouldn’t let him miss a second of your voice.

you must’ve heard the rustling. “akaashi?”

“hm? i’m listening, don’t worry. i’m here.”

then he hears movement come from your end too, imagining that you were sitting in the chair by the big window and then moving to somewhere more comfortable, like your couch or bed. maybe it’s vice-versa and you’re trying your best to get out of bed. he wishes he was there.

“there’s… now there’s just this lump under the rug… and it’s gotten so, _so_ big that i,” an exhale, the steadiest you’ve breathed so far. “i don’t know what to do.”

akaashi lets out a soft chuckle, considers it the right time to alleviate the air a little bit. “a lump under the rug?”

“i’m bad at metaphors, you know that!” he hears your smile in your whine. _god,_ how he wishes he could see it.

“it’s fine. we all have… _lumps_ under our rugs—”

you snort at that and akaashi guesses you’ve clamped a hand over your mouth because all he could hear was muffled giggles. “it’s definitely not a good metaphor—i’m so sorry, i interrupted you. please continue.”

akaashi only hopes you’re not forcefully picking yourself back up in front of him for his sake, but he smiles anyway. “but the lumps won’t stay there forever, okay?”

“and… and if they do?”

“they won’t.” he’s firm, reassurance grounding him steady, hoping it could be felt through the phone. “you’ll have the strength to clear whatever’s under there too. even if it’s not today, you will soon.”

the silence that ensues now is different from the ones before. it’s you thinking, it’s you hitting pause and reminding yourself of what’s in front of you. “yeah, i know.”

“just don’t forget that you don’t have to clean it up all at once.” you hum at the reminder. “and that you don’t have to do this alone.” akaashi is suddenly washed over with a wave of missing you. “and do it little by little. that way, you won’t tire out too quickly.”

akaashi doesn’t consider himself to be a man very good with spoken words, it was a talent reserved mostly for you. he knows he can only say such things because he’s just repeating them back to you; the words of advice you once offered him when the weight on his shoulders almost brought him to his knees.

it’s the way your love worked. you and akaashi lent bits and pieces of the other, so that one day, you’d recognise a part of yourself in him and him in you. you’d be reminders for each other, anchors that rooted home.

you sigh out loud. “thank you, akaashi. really.”

now it’s his turn to take a moment, his mind combing through what you’ve said. “why didn’t you tell me you’ve been feeling like this for weeks?”

akaashi knows the answer. “i didn’t want to worry you.”

“i worry about you anyway.”

“i know.”

“next time, tell me, okay? i want to know.”

“i could ask the same from you.” his eyes widen a little at what you say. “you just brood in frustration by yourself and the only way i can tell is because you forget to use full punctuation in your texts.”

akaashi was unaware of such a habit and he can’t help but feel embarrassed, bringing his free hand to scratch the back of his head. “i don’t think i do that, but i’ll let it go.”

he watches the sky as he waits for your giggles to calm. not a cloud in sight since the morning, whereas you’ve been giving him timely updates about how often it rained where you are. _but it’s the same sky_ , you had said.

“i miss you,” he breathes.

and with the same longing, the same melancholy, you reciprocate. “i miss you too.”


End file.
